


A Soft Touch

by LadyBrooke



Series: Touch Starved Finarfin [2]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Orgy, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Sex as Therapy, Touch-Starved, Ósanwe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:35:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26981500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: It takes Maglor’s return to Valinor before any of the rest of the family realize that Finarfin has suffered too.
Relationships: Amras/Amrod/Caranthir/Celegorm/Curufin/Finarfin/Fingon/Maedhros/Maglor, Finarfin | Arafinwë/Maglor | Makalaurë, Fëanor | Curufinwë/Finarfin | Arafinwë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë
Series: Touch Starved Finarfin [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792456
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27
Collections: Iddy Iddy Bang Bang! 2020





	A Soft Touch

The first thing Maglor noted upon seeing Finarfin again after all the centuries they were parted was how lonely he seemed.

It was a loneliness Maglor himself was familiar with, isolated by his own choices and doom to the beach he had dwelt on for so many years. But Finarfin had been in Valinor, surrounded, or so Maglor had thought, by loved ones.

"Is there something wrong?" Finarfin turned to him some weeks later, when Maglor let himself into the garden to sit beside him.

"Not with me," Maglor settled on, after thinking for a moment. "But you seem lonely, Uncle, more than I would have expected."

Finarfin's laughter was soft and brittle. They both knew that if he had been any further away, it would have passed unnoticed. "I am fine. With your return, both my brothers and all my nephews walk these shores again. What more could I wish for?"

Maglor thought of those that would never walk these shores, Elros and Arwen among them, before clearing his thoughts. Finarfin might mourn his great-granddaughter's choice, but that was not the cause of this. "And before our returns? Did you have no comfort from others?"

Finarfin's lips twisted, before he surprised Maglor by speaking. "It is hard to be a King alone. Atar did not make it seem so, but I was not alive after he lost your grandmother, and even then he would have had Fëanáro."

"Did you not have Eärwen?" Maglor asked.

Finarfin shook his head. "After Alqualondë - after I made it clear that I accepted the doom only to extent, that I could not bring myself to forsake all but our children forever, we separated. She did not want to dwell in Tirion after that, not that I blame her. Amil and Findis left as well, for a time."

"And so you were alone," Maglor said.

"There are few willing to touch a king if they are not family. Fewer of those can be trusted." Finarfin looked at the sky. "And so I was alone."

"It seems cruel that you made the choices that aligned with the Valar, and were punished for them." Maglor looked at his uncle, delicately resting a hand on his arm.

Finarfin startled, almost jerking himself free of the touch before he took a breath.

"I apologize," Maglor said.

"No, it is fine. It has just been-" Finarfin cut off.

"A long time?" Maglor said, raising a brow. "I know the feeling. You become accustomed to the lack of touch, and then it returns. Slower for you than for me, though you have dwelt surrounded by people."

Finarfin's voice was free of judgment, even as he turned away. "They were gone, and when they returned, the adjustment was hard."

"They would make it up to you, if you will allow it." Maglor drew his uncle’s hand closer to him as he spoke.

"There is no need," Finarfin said. "I am fine, and of all the things they could have known, any minor suffering I endured is not among them."

Maglor lifted his uncle's hand to his lips, pressing a brief kiss to it.

Finarfin shuddered at the contact, letting his eyes briefly flutter shut as he leaned forward.

"It can be about want as well as need. We want to touch you, to make you feel connected to others once more. You do not have to be the stoic king alone in his palace anymore, you can be naught more than beloved Arafinwë," Maglor's breath tickled Finarfin's fingers as he spoke.

Maglor's voice had only grown more intoxicating over the ages, hints of vulnerability mixed with self-assurance he had not had in his youth in Valinor. Finarfin wavered. "For how long?"

"As long as you want, Uncle. Until you feel at peace, until Arda is remade. We will lay no limits on it." Maglor kept his hold on Finarfin's hand, but moved closer. "Do you remember when we were but youths, watching our family fall in and out of love."

"You are kind to leave out my boyhood indiscretions. You were kind then, as well, to put up with scribbled odes to your beauty and music from your youngest uncle." Finarfin leaned into the touch.

"You were a sweet child," Maglor said. "I was used to Tyelko, whose only odes were screaming at me to leave the bathroom."

Finarfin smiled. "Is it odd that I consider those some of the better days of my life, alongside my days with my children?"

"Nay," Maglor answered. "But we will make other good days as well, if you will but come with me.”

"Who will be there?" Finarfin asked, hand trembling so slightly that Maglor could barely feel it.

"My brothers, Findekáno, and I to begin with," Maglor said, voice soft and reassuring. "They will not all focus on you at once. Findekáno and Maitimo are likely to have turned their attention to each other by now."

"It is good that they have each other again," Finarfin said. "And later?"

"My father and Nolofinwë plan to arrive once they are done meeting grandfather about horses or some nonsense. If you do not wish so many, or for some in particular, simply tell me. This is for you."

Finarfin met his nephew's eyes, biting his lip.

Maglor sat there calmly, waiting for him to reason through his doubts.

Finally, Finarfin spoke. "If they all wish to be there, I will welcome their touch."

Maglor smiled, standing and pulling his uncle up. "They do. All you must do is follow me to my bedroom, and we shall do the rest."

Finarfin did not speak as he was led through the gardens, past familiar paths that led to his own empty rooms, to his children's homes, and to the king's apartments that he gladly forsaken when his father returned to life.

There before him was the path that led to Fëanor's home in Tirion, once more full of life.

Maglor paused at the entrance, the gate locked and closed. "If you need a moment…"

Finarfin looked at the gate's lock. "Will you look badly upon me if I say I am afraid?"

Maglor shook his head, hair falling down his shoulders. "Would you think me a coward if I said I was more afraid to face my family than the Valar?"

"Nay," Finarfin said, taking a breath.

Maglor's smile was radiant in the afternoon sun. "It is wise to fear the unknown, and natural to fear how your family will judge you. But none here will judge you."

Finarfin nodded. With one last look at the lock, he spoke. "I am ready."

Maglor reached forward, including the lock and letting them in. As they walked up the path, past the forges and stables that Fëanor had insisted he kept separate from the palace's, the front door to the house opened.

Caranthir stood there, smirk for once absent as he looked over them.

Finarfin felt exposed at the look, but walked up the steps. Maglor was at his back, a reassuring presence as they entered.

Caranthir did not speak until the door had shut. "You do not have to give me that look.”

“I was merely surprised,” Maglor said, a familiar look on his face that Finarfin remembered from ages past. “We had planned on Maitimo being here, and instead you are.”

“Tyelko wanted Maitimo’s help with his hair, for whatever reason, and would not quit asking until he got what he wanted. So you have me instead,” Caranthir said.

Finarfin decided to intervene before Maglor became too worked up about the change in plans. “I am glad that Maitimo decided to help Tyelko, in that case. It would be ill done to leave him alone to fret.”

“He would have been fine,” Maglor muttered, but at least refrained from a rant.

Caranthir only laughed. “Tyelko has never been alone in his life. I suppose you are right, we should spare him that fate.”

Finarfin frowned, grasping at the implications of such. Before he could unravel the strands, Caranthir turned and began to lead them both towards the bedroom.

“Come, uncle. I fear the twins are too distracted to give you any discussion before they pounce upon you, so I hope you did not desire such.”

“Carnistir!” Maglor whirled around.

Finarfin placed a hand on his shoulder. “Makalaurë, it is fine. I did not come here expecting some scripted outcome of events.”

“I asked them to behave,” Maglor said.

“And they will,” Caranthir said. “Peace, brother, none of us would see Arafinwë come to harm.”

Finarfin’s hand on Maglor’s shoulder appeared to be the only thing keeping him from having a complete fit. Eventually he turned back to Finarfin and took a breath. “If you wish to leave-”

“I do not,” Finarfin said, before the sound of loud laughter and crashing came from the bedroom. All three turned to stare in that direction. “Perhaps a moment before we join them, however?”

To Finarfin’s surprise, it was Caranthir’s lips that met his. It was less of a surprise when he felt himself pushed back against the wall, his sense of place and time crowded out by Caranthir’s needs and wishes.

He kissed Caranthir back, giving in to the need and want that had been building, even as he wondered with what little sense he had left what Maglor’s reaction to such had been and if any of the others would stumble across them soon.

Caranthir would not let him think of such for long, pressing him for kisses again and again, shoving at Finarfin’s clothes as he did so, until Finarfin wondered if he would be collecting his clothes throughout the entire house when they were finally done.

They finally broke apart when Finarfin could hardly keep his breath anymore, only to find not only Maglor there, but Celegorm and Maedhros as well watching them.

Maglor’s lips twisted up into a smile at the look on Finarfin’s face, while Maedhros laughed.

“Perhaps you and Tyelko should switch names, brother,” Maedhros said.

Caranthir laughed too. “Perhaps Tyelko should spend less time getting ready when he is only going to lose his pretty braids again in a moment, and I shall not have to make up for his lacking presence.”

“Perhaps you should mind your own business,” Celegorm said.

“Peace,” Finarfin said in response to the beginning of another argument. “Please, I do not wish an argument because of me.”

“It is not because of you,” Maedhros said, gaze flickering over all of them. “But our uncle has a point. Should we not be focused on him, and not on whatever petty squabbles are between us?”

“They’re not all petty,” Celegorm said, but turned to Finarfin. “You truly wish us all here?”

“Yes,” Finarfin said.

“Tyelko, I told you already that everything was fine.” Maedhros sighed.

Finarfin chanced a look at Maglor, who appeared equally confused, and Caranthir, who appeared to know exactly what the problem was.

“Excuse me for not thinking Curvo and I are the ideal elves to be here,” Celegorm said, turning from the argument.

Finarfin caught his arm, still trying to form vague impressions into thoughts, but mostly certain of the root of this. “I shall only have cause for argument with you if you leave here now because you have ascribed feelings to me that I do not hold, for deeds that my son has bidden us all forgive.”

“Findaráto and you are both far too kind,” Celegorm said. It sounded like an accusation, but before his brothers could speak again, or Finarfin respond, he moved on. “What would you have me do? Carnistir has already taken most of your clothes, I see.”

That was a good question. Finarfin scrambled for an answer before an argument could break out again, but could not think of one.

Thankfully, Maglor came to his rescue. “Perhaps Maitimo and you could prepare him? The noises coming from the bedroom are quite frankly concerning - I think the Ambarussa must have tried the thing with the chair and Findekáno again, and it must have gone either exceedingly wrong or exceedingly well. Either way, they are unlikely to be anything other than rambunctious when we all enter.”

“That we can do,” Celegorm agreed.

Finarfin nodded. This time when he was pulled into a kiss, it was Maedhros, who also lifted him into the air. Finarfin could feel Celegorm pulling the rest of the clothes off, exposing him to the air and everyone’s sight, and then oil and Celegorm’s fingers touching him. 

But no sooner could he think of that then he felt Maedhros shifting to only hold him upright with one arm, the other one sliding in between them, slick fingers rubbing against Finarfin’s cock and distracting him from his other thoughts.

It went on like that until finally Finarfin rested his head against Maedhros’s shoulder and came with a faint cry.

For a moment, he felt himself tense as realization struck him of exactly how his nephews had decided to comfort him. He doubted they had really wished to do so, after all, when they had seemed quite content on their own and half of them had not seemed to wish him there in the first place.

“Carnistir and Tyelko went to check that the bed is still standing,” Maedhros interrupted his thoughts.

When Finarfin raised his head and met both Maedhros and Maglor’s eyes, it was obvious that they knew his thoughts had turned to some dark path. Neither remarked on such, however.

“If the bed is not still standing, what do you intend to do?” Finarfin seized the chance to change the subject away from himself.

“Find a different bed. There are enough of them in this house, after all, and if the twins, Findekáno, or Curvo have somehow managed to destroy all of them, we shall send them to Nolofinwë’s house to carry another one here.” Maglor grinned as he met Finarfin’s look. “Would you not like to see those four doing a walk of shame with a new bed?”

The image was amusing, but Finarfin shook his head. “Perhaps one day, but today I would simply like to be in a bed far sooner than they could bring a new one here.”

“We shall simply have to trust that they have not managed to destroy everything,” Maedhros said.

Finarfin expected to find himself lowered back to the ground, but instead Maedhros simply tightened his grip and carried Finarfin towards the bedroom, knocking on the door with his foot as Maglor followed.

When the door opened, the twins stood before them. It was obvious the crashing noises from earlier had been a chair, which still was turned on its side in the middle of the room.

There were, however, no visible injuries and the bed still appeared to be in one piece, a far greater victory than any of the remaining three had hoped for. In the background, Finarfin could see Celegorm and Caranthir beginning to rearrange some other furniture.

“Do we want to know?” Maedhros asked as he placed Finarfin on the bed.

Finarfin was not surprised to find himself surrounded on either side by the Ambarussa as soon as Maedhros had stepped back.

“Probably not,” Amrod said.

Amras nodded. “Findekáno and Curvo are still in one piece.”

Then they turned their attention to Finarfin before he could think through the implications of that.

Later, if Finarfin had been pressed, it would have been entirely unable to recount exactly what the twins had done. It seemed no sooner had he begun to realize what one was doing than his attention was pulled away by some movement on his other side, until finally both twins had pulled away and left him motionless and panting on the bed.

No sooner had the twins pulled back than Curufin and Fingon dropped onto the bed.

"Hello, Uncle," Curufin purred, licking his lips as he eyed Finarfin's cock. "Our fathers will be here soon to fuck you."

Curufin's mouth quirked oddly as he finished.

Finarfin reached out, resting a hand on top of Fingon's to make his nephew stop moving. He knew there was something off about this, even as the fog from the Ambarussa’s actions was slow to lift.

Curufin's smile twisted again as they all sat on the bed, becoming more like Fëanor's.

"They will be, but for now I would like to make love with my nephews.” Finarfin kept his eyes focused on Curufin as he spoke.

"That is well, because we are the ones in bed with you," Fingon's voice was bright with laughter.

Curufin shook his head, but his smile changed.

There, that was Curufin, Finarfin thought, leaning forward to kiss his nephew as he let Fingon's hand go. Fingon moved again, pressing against Finarfin’s back, his cock hard and sliding between Finarfin’s legs, making them both moan.

Curufin ducked his head down, swallowing Finarfin’s length in his mouth and sucking. It was almost too much, thoughts of how long it had been before this that he last been touched like this coming to Finarfin’s mind before they were pressed out by the next thrust of Fingon’s cock.

It could have been minutes or hours, but eventually Finarfin felt Fingon shudder to a stop and a sudden burst of come between his legs. They remained like that for a minute, before Fingon reached down between them and added his hand to the movements around Finarfin’s cock, touching what Curufin’s mouth could not reach.

It did not take long before Finarfin found himself coming again, gasps and moans leaving his mouth as he panted with his head against Fingon’s shoulder.

And then it was over, those two slipping off the bed to drift to some other corner of the bedroom.

For a moment Finarfin thought he would be left alone on the bed, before Maglor slipped onto it beside him.

“Atar and Nolofinwë appear to have been delayed by Grandfather, but I am sure they will be here as soon as they can,” Maglor said.

That was to have been expected, Finarfin decided. He only nodded as he watched Curufin fall onto a pile of blankets beside Maedhros and Fingon, and Caranthir take a seat on the couch with his legs crossed.

“Do you not wish to have your way with me as well?” Finarfin muttered a moment later to Maglor, as they watched the others.

“Of course,” Maglor said. “As I have since I foolishly rejected you those ages ago, but we will have time later for such things. For now I simply wish to be close to you, and to watch you have everything else you deserve as well.”

From any of the others, Finarfin would have rejected such sentiments. But Maglor had also dwelt alone for years, and though he seemed to have coped with it better than Finarfin himself, it appeared too that he understood. Finarfin rested his head against Maglor’s shoulder as they both waited for Fëanor and Fingolfin to arrive.

The others had started to drift to sleep, curled on various surfaces in the room, when Finarfin finally heard the door click open.

Lifting his head from the bed, he took in the sight of his brothers entering the room. If none of this had happened, just the sight of them peacefully talking would have been a balm to Finarfin's nerves and loneliness. Fëanor looked at him, and Finarfin felt his brother enter his mind, before Fëanor pulled back.

"I would not have just that be a balm to what has hurt you, Arafinwë." Fëanor leaned over the bed and Maglor's dozing form. "Can you move, Makalaurë?"

Maglor's eyes opened. Nodding, he stood, Fëanor helping him to rest beside Caranthir on the couch.

At the same time, Fingolfin pulled his clothes off and dropped on the bed beside Finarfin. "He speaks the truth. I am sorry that none of us realized before Maglor's arrival that you were suffering."

"I did not think I was. I had you all back, and that was enough," Finarfin said, letting his head fall back against Fingolfin's shoulder.

"It was not." Fëanor climbed into the bed on Finarfin's other side, clothes lost somewhere between the couch and the bed. "I spent long years in the Halls cursing Makalaurë's fate, I should have seen the same effects on you."

"I would not have wanted you to." Finarfin's eyes were bright in the darkening room.

His brothers shared a glance, Fëanor nodding at the end.

"No, you share that in common with our father," Fingolfin said. "You should go visit him, whenever we let you free from the bed."

Finarfin blinked. "Atar? When-"

"The Halls. He felt alone, cut off from touch and much of his family for long years. None of us knew, evidently, save for our mothers after his release. He wishes to speak to you and Makalaurë." Fëanor pressed a kiss to Finarfin's lips. "But for now, we have other things to do."

"Yes," Finarfin said, leaning into the touch.

"What do you wish us to do? You must be exhausted, we will not be offended if you wish us to wait until morning." Fingolfin's hands hovered above Finarfin's chest.

"No," Finarfin blurted out, a pit of dread forming in his stomach at the thought of waiting. In the next moment, he forced himself to calm, as Maglor sat up, hair tousled, and Maedhros and Fingon broke apart on their blankets at the sharp cry. He waited to speak, hoping none of the others would awaken to see his shame. "Though, if you both-"

Fëanor held a finger to his lips, hushing Finarfin's speech. "We will not leave you, Arafinwë. Not by choice. Nor will we force you to wait if you do not want to. Nolofinwë was merely concerned for you, because we both know how demanding those eight can be and you have been alone for so long."

Maglor sank back onto the couch as his father spoke, Caranthir sleepily throwing an arm around him to force him to remain still. Maedhros remained up, face worried, as Fingon leaned against him, watching the three of them.

Finarfin tried to smile reassuringly. "I do not need your concern."

Fingolfin groaned. "You are more stubborn than Fëanáro."

"I am not." Finarfin turned his head to look over his shoulder. "I merely do not wish you all to waste time worrying about me when I do not require it."

"Arafinwë, while you may not be as bad as some, you cannot deny-" Fëanor's voice was low and soothing.

"Must we discuss this now? I wish you two to fuck me. Please, I have imagined such since Maglor brought the idea to me today," Finarfin begged, interrupting his brother.

Fëanor met his gaze, searching.

Finarfin opened his mind again. This time, Fingolfin joined as well.

It was nearly too much, the feeling of all his secrets exposed to them. Finarfin had not realized that tears were falling from his eyes until Fingolfin raised a hand to brush them away.

"You imagined such things long before Maglor came to you, in dreams and hopes," Fingolfin said.

Finarfin did not bother to nod. They both knew the truth. If they rejected him now, they would still know everything. At least his nephews did not- they could not- he needed to find an explanation, his mind racing, but his brothers were still there, still looking at everything he was-

"Arafinwë!"

He felt himself yanked from his thoughts. Fëanáro must have done such, Nolo did not have the skill- though he could have learned, his brothers had been together in the Halls while he had been here alone, alone, he was so-

The voice called his name again, as he felt his thoughts shoved back. It was Fëanor's voice, he thought, taking a sharp breath.

"Calm yourself," Fëanor said. "Arafinwë, listen to me, you must calm yourself."

Arafinwë tried to focus. Fingolfin's arms were wrapped tightly around him, his hands rubbing circles against Finarfin's stomach.

"Look around this room, brother. All seven of my sons and Findekáno are still here - you had noticed Maitimo and Findekáno on their blankets, Carnistir and Makalaurë on the couch. But see Tyelko draped around the Ambarussa? Curufinwë is beside Maitimo."

Finarfin nodded, focusing on the others. They were still here. Caranthir had stood, crossing to the desk, the throw that had been atop Maglor and him shoved to the ground.

Maglor hovered halfway between the bed and the couch, Maedhros and Fingon both rising to meet him.

Curufin sat next to them, blinking frantically as he rubbed his face, never quick to wake. In the farthest corner, the twins and Celegorm were tensed for movement.

Fingolfin's movements and Fëanor's voice were grounding Finarfin back to the bed.

"Good. Focus on those sensations - you can see all of them. Nolo will not stop touching you, and I will keep talking. But you must calm, brother."

Blinking, Finarfin noticed the hint of fear in Fëanor's voice. "I am calm now. I am. I just-"

Before he could finish the thought, Caranthir had reappeared, a glass of water in his hands.

Finarfin tried to take it, water sloshing over the rim as his hands shook. He flinched at Caranthir's frown and the concerned looks from his other nephews.

"I am fine," he said, breaking the silence that had descended on the room.

"You were overwhelmed," Fingolfin said. "It is understandable. You have been pushed near to your limits today, and we were not clear enough in our speech."

"How did that-" Maglor cut himself off as Finarfin flushed. "Never mind, it does not matter as long as you are well. The rest of us shall go back to sleep, or whatever these two were doing, and you three can continue."

Finarfin motioned him closer as Curufin flopped back onto the blankets, prompting a cry from Fingon as his pillows were stolen.

Ignoring the squabble, and the sound of the twins whispering in the corner, Finarfin pushed himself up to meet Maglor's eyes. "I am well."

Maglor gave him a dubious look, taking a seat on the bed next to his father's legs. "Are you?"

"He is as well as you are, Makalaurë." Fëanor looked at his son.

"That is hardly reassuring," Maglor said. "I barely-"

Finarfin felt Fingolfin take the cup from him, but his focus remained on Maglor. Maglor, who had seemed so self-assured this morning. Maglor, who had not fallen apart.

As though following his thoughts, Maglor turned to face him again, lips twitching. "There is no shame in this, Arafinwë. You can ask Carnistir, I did not even make it to the bed before I was sobbing that first night."

Caranthir nodded. "You did not, but who could blame you for such? Nor will we judge you, Uncle."

Finarfin relaxed slightly. "Thank you."

"No thanks are necessary," Maglor said. He leaned forward, kissing Finarfin once more. "I wish you to be happy."

"And I you." Finarfin looked up at him, feeling Fëanor's hand against his wrist.

"Come, brother, back to the couch with us." Caranthir wrapped an arm around Maglor's waist, leading him away.

The room was silent again, Finarfin leaning back, feeling both of his brothers pressed against him.

None of them spoke again until the others had returned to sleep or their own distractions.

“I wish I had known about Makalaurë,” Finarfin said at last, even as Fingolfin continued to rub circles against his back, an action more habit than soothing at this point.

"Of course,” Fëanor said. Before Finarfin could ask him what that meant, his half-brother continued, “None of us are completely well, even if they did not show you such tonight. The Ambarussa will not part, Maitimo and Findekáno fear themselves and each other-"

"Each other?"

Fingolfin nodded. "Who can hurt them better? Findekano clings to Maitimo afraid he will kill himself again. Maitimo clings to Findekano, afraid he will leave. And then one or both of them fears they are too attached, and tries to draw apart."

Finarfin looked across the darkened room, to where Maedhros and Fingon were entwined, Curufin pressed to Fingon's back. "And Curufin?"

Fingolfin shrugged. "A distraction. Neriel joins them, sometimes."

That was little surprise. Curufin's wife was rarely found apart from her husband, now that they had been reunited.

Before he could wonder where she was that night, Fingolfin drew him into a kiss. "Do not think over much of it. You must focus on yourself until you are better."

"And what if I wish to think of others?" Finarfin asked. He did not really wish to focus on himself, it sounded nothing except exhausting after what had happened tonight.

“It depends on how you mean to think of others. If you wish to try and solve all their problems on your own, they shall fight you over it,” Fëanor said.

Finarfin could feel Fingolfin nod behind him.

“If you wish to think of others as we make love, however, we shall do so,” Fingolfin said.

Finarfin nodded weakly, hoping they would not change their minds. "I am exhausted, but still, I want you both."

"And you shall have us." Fëanor reached behind him, blindly grabbing a vial of oil. "But you will let us do the work."

"How shall I have you both?"

"In the long run? However you wish - your fantasies were intriguing, brother," Fëanor's voice had deepened. "But as much as I find the idea of bonds and toys, and you punishing us for leaving you arousing, I do not think tonight is the night for such."

Finarfin flushed red as Fingolfin laughed. "I do not wish to actually punish-"

"Nay, you are kinder than that, and the most forgiving of all our family," Fëanor said. "But we will pretend, one day."

That promise hung in the air for a moment, before Finarfin nodded jerkily. "And for tonight?"

"I will take you and you will take Fëanáro, so that we may hold you between ourselves." Fingolfin moved his hands lower, stroking Finarfin's cock.

That was more than Finarfin had dared hope for.

Thankfully, his brothers seemed to know that, and did not press for an answer. Finarfin felt Fingolfin’s fingers press in to the same places Celegorm’s had earlier, even as Fëanor slicked Finarfin’s cock with oil once more.

And then his brothers moved as one. Finarfin was too tired to help them, simply clinging to Fëanor’s shoulders as they moved him between the two of them, until finally he felt himself filled with Fingolfin’s come as Fëanor’s spluttered against his stomach.

He did not know quite what came after that, only that one of his brothers must have found a cloth somewhere to clean them with, and that the blankets had been pulled around him.

"Go to sleep, brother,” one of them whispered.

Finarfin did, knowing that his brothers would not sleep for hours, if they did at all that night. He knew too somehow that they would both still be there when he awoke, the same way that he knew Maglor would be, and likely the others as well.

Those thoughts followed him as he slipped into dreams that for once were not full of loneliness.


End file.
